


Priority Four

by SpitfireRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ardyn is Ardyn, Chocobos, Chocobros - Freeform, Game Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpitfireRose/pseuds/SpitfireRose
Summary: Noct is, and will always be, the top priority for Gladio and Ignis no matter the situation and danger. This leaves Prompto struggling on the edge until the Prince is safe and secure.





	Priority Four

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece inspired by Kaciart's work: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/166688001068 that had to be written.

Perish by volcanic inferno, or accept ‘help’ offered by a man that cannot be trusted.

Fire licks dangerously close at their heels, waves of heat near suffocating. The dropship edges ever higher, though plumes of flame have yet to reach that high. Like a game of cat-and-mouse, being bullied on the edge of death with an elixir dangled right in their faces.

The window of opportunity is rapidly declining as the awaiting dropship begins to ascend further, having no other option than to accept the lesser of two evils. All that matters is the top priority of Noct surviving to see another day, as detest as both Shield and Advisor are of putting faith in Niflheim’s Chancellor, smirking as if entertained by obvious hatred of knowing what must be done.

Words needn’t be spoken with a thoroughly exhausted Noct perilously swaying between the two eldest, despising decision determined. Gladiolus jumps onto the vessel’s door, Ignis hoisting the barely conscious Prince to pass over to waiting arms before climbing aboard himself. Ardyn poses no assistance, merely observing with the same sick satisfaction despite the daggers that glare from the corner of the Advisor’s watchful eye.

Noct is safe and secure on the dropship. That’s all that matters. They’re all getting out of here, alive.

It takes a second too long to process that’s not entirely true with an exchange of widening glances, registering unaccounted for party member nowhere in sight. The fourth and final priority.

“Prompto!”

By some luck is the blond still alive no thanks to them, sweaty and frightened beyond belief, up to his elbows on the steel toothed ledge and straining with sapped strength to pull himself over.

He can’t.

“Oh, dear.” Ardyn’s voice drawls with as much disinterested concern as if witnessing a fly struggling in a hungry spider’s web, making no move to help. “We were so very close to rescuing all four of you, too. How tragic.”

The ship jars.

He’s gone.

There’s a lot of shouting, indistinguishable to who all are, as the next thing Ignis knows is both he and Gladio are bolting with all they have to the entrance, as if they’ll be able to see Prompto falling to his demise.

He’s not, by some blessing of an Astral they’ll thank later, thank all of them for good measure.

Fingers as white as frantic bone teeter on the dropship’s lip, slipping with precious seconds they don’t have.

Prompto’s falling, nothing to grab onto that’ll save him this time.

Ignis gets hold of his arm by pure, self-sacrificing determination without a moment’s hesitation, only spared joining the gunner over the edge by Gladio’s quick-thinking, clutching the back of his shirt in a deathgrip. If the Shield is swearing, he doesn’t hear it for how his heart pounds in his chest, ribs racking up bruises against metal teeth.

They’ve got him. That’s all that matters.

Gladio lunges for Prompto’s outstretched arm, clamps his free hand around his elbow. He grips hard, palms sweaty and aching from mountain climbing and taking on a literal Titan, clenching with all he has at the sight of Prompto. Violet-blue eyes wildly darting between them, sheer terror flashing like a neon sign, blinding and louder than any spoken word, mute pleas deafening.

_Don’t drop me. Oh, Gods, don’t drop me. Please, please, Gods, don’t drop me._ **_Please._ **

His shoulder screams in pain from where Ignis snatched him, elbow straining within the swordsman’s unyielding grasp that’ll leave an imprint for weeks. Prompto doesn’t look down once, all focus on the pair clinging with labored grunts, queasy stomach waiting for the slightest of slackening and then plummeting below. Rigid fingers still twitch at empty air, needing to be holding onto something even though he hasn’t the strength to so much as lift a pebble.

Prompto dangles for an eternity until Gladio yanks him over the solid frame, dragging both him and Iggy as far from the edge as physically possible, to an unconscious Noct laying right where they left him.

“Well, that was exciting.” Ardyn comments idly, having watched with great interest at the feat, dropship’s door sealing shut and bringing blessed coolness. “How fortunate for you all that I was here.”

Gladio positions himself protectively in front them, Ignis holding his tongue that has more than a few choice words. The Chancellor hums as if a response to the one not received, smiles a little smile before making himself scarce out of the docking bay.

The remaining tension only breaks at a sniffle from behind the two, Prompto curled impossibly small with back plastered against the wall. He’s shivering, eyes still wide yet unseeing to the shut door, startling when the Advisor comes into view and blocking the sight.

“Let’s have a look, hm, Prompto?” Ignis is gentle, coaxing aching arms from his knees. Understandably, they’ve no curatives after the day’s events, but it’s nothing that can’t be splinted and put it in a sling until proper healing items are acquired. “There we are. It’ll be alright.”

He’s not alright, tears spilling down soot-covered cheeks by their own accord. There’s no stopping them even if he wanted to, and he does, ashamed at crying before the two and unable to even wipe his own face.

“I got him.” Gladio murmurs, a delicate shift to receive the weary limbs, checking them over with care as the strategist fetches the materials from a bag. Iggy’s quick, retrieves a handkerchief, too, softly brushing beneath red-rimmed sapphires. “It’s okay, kid. We’ve got you.”

Tears keep streaming no matter how tender they are, injuries set with all that can be done for now. Prompto leans heavily against Ignis, tucked beneath the crook of the Advisor’s arm like a baby chocobo, back rubbed in comforting circles and soothing whispers, unsure if the blond truly hears him in despondency. Noct still rests, completely out of it on Iggy’s other side, but expression peaceful enough as Gladio keeps guard over the three.

The Chancellor returns, Advisor and Shield’s protectiveness flaring up in deterring sight of their charges, smiling warmly despite chilling reception. He’s come to ask for where they’d like to be dropped off. Wiz’s Chocobo Post is all the answer he gets out of Gladio, cheerily beaming that it won’t take long to reach their destination, so he’ll just stick around to see them off like the grand helper he’s been. Ignis doesn’t miss the way Prompto burrows himself closer, or how Gladio is one wrong move away from summoning his greatsword. A flick of the wrist, and there’ll be a dagger in the man’s heart, though he suspects it hollow.

For a short distance, it takes an awfully long time.

* * *

It’s still a walk to the Post, Regalia suspiciously missing without suspicion of who now possesses it. Another venture for another day, one that can wait as two pairs of feet make the trek to the caravan. Noct is settled, potions purchased, injuries healed, and much-deserved naps taken.

Except Prompto, seeking out the comforting dark gilded feathers of his bird. Mico ‘kweh’s at him, picks the greens from trembling hands before shaking limbs encircle her neck for a weak embrace that’s the strongest he can manage. Pressing his face into the warm down, he inhales the scent, and grasps soft plumes like a child seeking comfort. She trills like he’s heard mother birds’ do for their chicks, feels her beak preen at his hair, and the relentless tears are back despite a wobbly smile.

He stays like that for a long time.


End file.
